


Shake it Out

by WarriorQueen



Category: Warrior (2011)
Genre: Consensual Violence, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, Gen, Mental Instability, Non-Consensual Violence, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-11-29 22:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarriorQueen/pseuds/WarriorQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Regrets collect like old friends<br/>Here to relive your darkest moments..</p><p>I am done with my graceless heart<br/>So tonight I’m gonna cut it out and then restart..</p><p>And I'm ready to suffer, and I'm ready to hope.."</p><p>
  <i>I welcome any and all comments!</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Promises Made, Every Memory Saved (Prologue)

_Viva forever, I’ll be waiting. Everlasting, like the sun_

Nothing ever happened in this stupid town on Friday nights. Not if you couldn’t drive, and I was the unfortunate age of 14. What WAS fortunate was that two of my very best friends happened to both be 20. If I was that dreadfully bored, and neither of them were at a college party, I could beg Brendan and Tess for a ride somewhere. Besides, Brendan was my next door neighbor. And actually, he was more like my brother than just a friend. 

I peeked through the curtains of the front door to see if Brendan’s truck was parked across the street. It wasn’t, but the Paddy Wagon was. Paddy is Brendan’s sorry excuse for a father, and his car is a gigantic Oldsmobile. Brendan, and his little brother Tommy, stole it once for a joyride around downtown Pittsburgh. Neither of us would get to joyride with Tommy again. All because of their father.

_*4.5 years prior*_

I would never like Paddy Conlon, not after that night he tore his family apart. I guess I repressed most of it. I never did understand how a post-wrestling match win for Tommy lead to his mom, Bridget, ending up in the hospital. Or with 16 year old Brendan furiously pacing a hole in the Conlon porch while 14 year old Tommy was given stitches under his chin, across his eyebrows and forehead. Tess and I cried on the steps as the cops hauled Paddy off to the drunk tank. He never stayed long, seeing as one of the deputies was his cousin. Nothing would be the same.

Three days later a group of neighbors convened in my mother’s kitchen. I could hear their whispered words of encouragement as Tommy and I sat silently on the stairs. Bridget sat biting her nails. Her eyes were blackened, her broken cheek was still swollen and cut deeply. My mom squeezed her free hand on the table and slid a thick envelope across the table. Bridget just shook her head through tears and slid it back.

Bridget and my mom had been friends since they were little girls living in a sleep suburban town outside of Pittsburgh. They went separate ways for awhile, my mom traveling to Kentucky for college. Bridget stayed behind and waited tables while auditing classes at the community college. She met Paddy Conlon at the diner she worked at, and fell in love. People warned her because of his volatile nature, but Bridget was stubborn. A quality she shared happily with her two sons that came quickly after they got married. Mom and I moved in next door when she and my father split when I was 3.

“I-I can’t, Anne. I can’t just take my boys away from here. Brendan was accepted into an early college program at Dusquesne. He has Tessie, and a job. Tommy,” Bridget ran her hands through her thin red hair. “He’s gonna go back to the Junior Olympics this summer.”

“You can’t let him beat you anymore, Bridg. He went after Tommy the other night,” my mom reminded her. “Abusing someone isn’t right, honey. Nothing you’ve ever done with that man in 20 years has been deserving of the way he treats you.”

Tommy snorted and leaned over to whisper in my ear, “Yeah so why the hell does your mother beat you? It’s like nothing you do is ever good enough, and she wants to beat the perfect in to you. Damn hypocrite!”

Tommy suddenly tore one of the supports out from under our banister. He snapped it easily in half as he stormed down the stairs towards my kitchen. I could only gasp having never seen Tommy that angry, or violent. He was done listening.

“Sorry for this, but FUCK STAYING HERE!” I heard him scream at everyone. “What good is any of this crap Brendan and I are good at if he kills you?! Ma, Brendan and I can take care of you. I don’t need to do any of that crap Pops makes me. If we can be safe, I want us to go away. Mom, please. Let’s get out of here ok?”

A week later, while Paddy was back down at the bar, the lot of us stood in the street. Bridget and Tommy were storing as many of their belongings as they could in the back of a borrowed station wagon. As soon as they reached Washington State, Tommy would call from a pay phone to let everyone know they were safe. One of the neighbors would fly out and pick up his car. Bridget and Tommy would be able to use her mother’s maiden name so that Paddy would never be able to find them. See, Brendan decided to stay behind.

“Someone’s gotta look after Pops,” he explained to Tommy after saying goodbye to Bridget. Tommy responded by pounding his fist in to the hood of the station wagon. 

Brendan ignored him. “I got Tess, ya know. Her parents offered me a place to live if I need it. You just gotta call me when you get there Tommy. Soon as I’m done with school I’ll come and get you and Ma. Ok?”

Tommy turned his back and waved Brendan off. “Whatever. You ain’t going nowhere without that stupid girl.” 

I remember Brendan reaching for Tommy to give him one last hug. Tommy stepped further away and towards me. “You’ll get over it. I love you, Tommy!” Brendan shouted in a strangled voice. Was he crying as he wrapped an arm around Tess and walked down the street? 

I definitely caught tears glistening in the street lights as they slid down Tommy’s cheek. He angrily wiped them away before hugging me tightly in a way Brendan was yearning for. “Screw him,” he said in my ear. “Ma and I won’t be gone long. I’ll see you around, kid?” I nodded, crying myself. That was the last time I saw Tommy.

_*present day*_

I sighed and heading in to the living room just as the phone rang. I heard my mom pick it up. A few seconds later she hollered at me, “HEY, Catherine-Jean! TELEPHONE!” 

I cringed. I hated my name. Brendan and Tess always call me Red or The Kid. My mom started to dye my hair red like she could turn me in to Bridget. “I got it!” I shouted back as I picked up the set in the living room.

“Hello?”

“Heya, kid! Guess who?!” I heard a deep voice on the other line. I don’t know many guys with voices like that, and why would Brendan call me like this? Because this voice sounded an AWFUL lot like Bren.

“Too slow. It’s Tommy! Conlon?” he added in case I forgot him. No matter how long Tommy had been gone, I would never forget him. If you told me that the universe revolved around Thomas James Conlon, you bet your ass I’d believe you. No one on this planet could forget a kid like him. Trust me.

“Tommy?!” I cried with excitement. “Where have you been?! We haven’t talked since the 4th of July!! How‘s Aunt Bridget? Is she feeling ok?”

“Let‘s not talk about Ma. Look, some stuff came up. I had to take care of it, but guess what? I did like, a semester at Washington State, but one of my professors actually talked me in to being a Marine.”

“Ha! Good one Conlon. A Marine. Do you know what you look like?”

“How about we go ice-skating tonight, and you tell me how I look.” His laugher filled the telephone line.

“Did someone invent a teleportation device? Tommy, how in the HELL are we gonna ice-skating?!” My heart fluttered around in my chest at the notion of being able to see Tommy again. After 4 years, I missed him so terribly. 

“I’m in town. I thought I’d take a one day layover in the ‘Burgh before I went to boot camp tomorrow. Can you take the T out to South Hills so’s I don’t haveta see Pops?” he sounded angry as Paddy’s name went past his lips.

“Yeah, Tommy. I’ll see you in half an hour.”

I had my skates on, and was circling around the rink when I saw him. Tommy was leaning against the entrance to the rink. He wore just a plain white tee-shirt and baggy jeans that hung off his thin frame. I skated full-stop towards him, as if I couldn’t get there fast enough. Tommy opened his arms as I skated in to them. I caught what looked like a tattoo peaking out from under his sleeves. We held each other tightly, and I couldn’t help it anymore. I lifted the fabric up to his shoulders.

“OH MY GOD!” I screamed. “TOMMY CONLON, YOU HAVE TATTOOS?!” 

He laughed and stepped on the ice. Skating backwards so that I would have to chase after him, he smiled widely and shook his head. I caught up quickly as he began to sing along with the Spice Girl’s song coming through the loud speakers. Tommy scratched his right arm absent-mindedly and looked down at the Fighting Irishman tattoo. I held his left hand in mine as we skated along and lifted it heavenwards. A dragon stared back at me.

“Reminder of who I came from,” he shrugged. “I’ve got the potential to be powerful and dangerous inside of me. Just like Pops.” 

My turn to skate backwards. “And the Notre Dame emblem? You know we’re a Nittany Lion family, Tommy.” 

The corner of his mouth turned upwards. “Nah, got nothing to do with Notre Dame. C’mon! You know us fightin’ Conlons!”

“Well, they look stupid. You don’t even have any biceps to proudly show them off on!” I teased him, wiggling his arm about. Secretly, I found them incredibly.. No, that’s not right. You’re a kid still, he just turned 19!

We skated about in silence as I contemplated exactly what Tommy meant by fighting. He quit wrestling when they left Pittsburgh four years ago. I know I passed it along that Brendan had taken up boxing and something called Mixed Martial Arts. I don’t think Tommy would be any better than Brendan at it. Why either of them wanted to be violent was beyond me. After all Paddy put them through?

Soon we were small-talking over hot chocolate. Every time I brought Bridget up, Tommy skirted the issue. He insisted that everything was alright with that famous wave of his hand. Months later, thanks to a P.I. Paddy hired, we would find out that Bridget had actually passed away the summer before from Ovarian Cancer. Tommy lived with a girl, his fiancee I would find out down the road, but broke it off with her to join the Marines. A hidden tattoo across his stomach was a permanent ode to her. 

Tommy and I stood by the lockers at the back of the ice rink. I studied him closely as he pulled his sneakers from the locker he rented. I knew he wasn’t telling me everything about Tacoma, but the smile remained on his mouth. It was the sadness behind those blue eyes that betrayed his grin. He and Bridget may have left 4 years ago, but I had known Tommy Conlon for ten before that. He had never been good at lying or keeping secrets from anyone, especially me. I knew not to press the matter further. If Tommy said everything was okay, you took that and kept it at face value. I was 14, though, not stupid; something was wrong. 

I balanced myself using Tommy’s arm as I stepped out of my figure skates. I wobbled and laughed, but before I could catch my balance he turned in my direction and took my face in his hands. I melted instantly. He towered over me in his hockey skates. I felt my knees weaken as he stared intently in my eyes.

“Wha-what are you doing, Tommy?” I asked, confused.

“When you turn 18, no matter WHERE I am in the world I’ll come back for you.” 

I could feel his breath warm on my frozen face. It smelled like hot chocolate and the cigarette I caught him smoking earlier. I nervously laughed in disbelief, “Okay, Tommy. What about Brendan? Shouldn’t you-“

He held my face tighter as if that would prove he meant business, covering my hand with his mouth. “I ain’t here to talk about Brendan, ok? He made his motives apparent when he didn’t come with Ma and I. Look, I swear it, doll. If Ma and I got out of Pop’s house, I will get you out of yours. No one should have to live with that bullshit. I’ll take you away from it as soon as you graduate. I PROMISE,” he said with conviction. I believed him.

“Now, you’re 16 right?” Tommy asked knowing full well how old I was. My 15th birthday was right around the corner.

My heart pounded in my chest, but I nodded in agreement. 

“Good, ‘cause Imma kiss you. You’ve been kissed so it won’t be a big deal, huh?” he asked me.

I nodded. I’ve never been fucking kissed by anyone who wasn’t a relative. Do we count the small peck on the lips behind the tree outside of the junior high when I was 11? This, it wasn’t going to be like that was it?

Tommy answered my thought by placing his lips softly against mine. I nearly went limp, but he held me tightly in his arms. I didn’t know what to do. My inexperience was showing. Moments passed and instinct of some kind kicked in. I kissed back just as he slipped the tip of his tongue in my mouth. Oh St. Anthony, please help find the rest of the little girl I just lost on the other side of Tommy Conlon’s lips.

Carried away by my newfound pasttime, I almost kept kissing when Tommy pulled away. He went back to taking his hockey skates off like nothing happened. I felt the adrenaline flow through my body as if I had just stepped off a rollercoaster. I swayed with excitement, wandering around my own brain as Tommy stood up ready to leave. 

“Kid?” he poked my shoulder. “You okay?” he laughed.

“Yeaaahhh” I smiled vapidly. 

Tommy and I walked silently out of the ice rink. His Marine duffel bag was slung high over his shoulder. He started boot camp in two days. I still couldn’t picture him surviving the Marines, but whatever floated his boat.

“Four years?” he questioned. I nodded.

“You’ll really come back for me, Tommy?” my stomach flipped suddenly anxious as I jabbed the toe of my Airwalk in to the cement sidewalk where we stood.

Tommy squeezed my hand. “I promise. It’ll be just us someday.” He kissed my forehead and turned towards the cold February night. He turned one more time to wave at me before disappearing in to the night. I wouldn’t


	2. You Popped My Heart Seams On My Bubble Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raise a glass to mend all the broken hearts of all my wrecked up friends

There was a chill in the air as I stepped out in to the early March evening. Pittsburgh was ablaze with St. Patrick’s Day festivities. Instead of the annual drunken Irish overkill, my friends and I were on our way to Rivers Casino to ring in my 26th birthday. My friends Tomilynn and Marcus and I were bound to be the only sober patrons amongst the slot machines. Ok so we got in 3 shots of Jack Daniels and one Irish coffee. 

So I guess what I REALLY did was stumble slightly down my front steps and across the street to Marcus’s waiting car. Tomi and I pulled our usual fashionable twin thing- wearing matching dresses but in our favorite colors. I held my clutch tightly under my arm and smiled at them. That’s when I heard the wolf whistle from behind me. 

I rolled my eyes in the direction of my friends, blatantly ignoring the whooping from behind me. I won’t lie. It is a thrill that someone is ogling me, but I know deep down it’s some pervy old man I’d rather punch in the face than let eye me like choice filet mignon. 

“HEY!” I hear a throaty yell from the steps next door to mine. “LEGS! How much to wrap them around a Marine like me?”

I turn a little too quickly to face the perpetrator. My head reels with the buzz I felt coming in to the cold air. The liquor has muffled my brain from any sort of a comeback besides the ever-so-classy, “Fuck off, asshole.”

“Haven’t seen me in 10 years, and that’s the first thing you say? Never did know how to take a joke, Red.” He shook his head in mock sadness.

I watched him pop the top off a prescription pill bottle and dump a few in his mouth. A brown-paper bag rose to his lips, a smile curling around the bottle. There was a glint of the twilight shining in his eyes. Mine narrowed in confusion; I shook my head in turn.

“Sorry, I don’t associate with the trash Paddy Conlon brings in from the local half-way house.”

He clutched his chest, “UGH. That one hurt. Come on, Red. You’ve known me since we was kids. You got no clue?”

I took a few steps towards Paddy’s front path, closer to where this guy was sitting. He put the bottle back inside his military-issued duffel bag; his hands shot up as if he was saying “Here I am. Come on, guess!”

“I told you. I don’t associate with juice-” my words froze on my tongue. Standing five feet away from him I gasped and choked on what was left of the statement. He blinked a few times and took off his ski hat.

“Tommy,” I whispered.

“The prodigal son has come home at last!” he chuckled through slurred sentiments. 

I marched as best as I could in my stilettos right up to him. And it was really childish, but that was what I felt like I was reduced to in front of him. My cheeks up to my ears blazed with fire; a lump formed in my throat that threatened to suffocate me from the inside out. I pulled my foot back and kicked him as hard as I could in the shin.

“You fucking asshole. You’re ten years late!”

The last time I saw Tommy Conlon, I was just on the brink of fifteen. I said it earlier that I’m 26 now. He promised, no matter what, that he would come back for me after I graduated from high school. When I turned 18 the two of us would blow this joint and never come back. 18 has clearly come and gone. 

My heart thundered in my ears as Tommy rubbed his shin. His thin laughter dripped with such forged happiness. A sarcasm I had never heard coming from Tommy no matter how bad things got at home. We lost total touch shortly before 9/11, but all of the years between Bridget’s death and that fateful September day seemed to push Tommy further and further away from me. I gave him six months after I turned 18, right up until I started my Freshman year of college. In my heart I knew he would never come for me. Especially when we found ourselves on the brink of war. He was a Marine. “Death before dishonor.”

I spat out one more time, “You never came for me.”

All phony emotions drained instantly from Tommy’s face. He took another swig of the whiskey lying on his bag. “Yeah?” he stared up in to my eyes. His were coated in ice.

I cocked my head as if to say, “Don’t even make me fucking repeat myself again.”

“You ever hear of something called the Iraq War?” he was cheeky about it.

“You ever hear of a fucking pen and paper? They‘ve invented wireless connection right?” I countered.

He licked his lips and squinted his eyes, “Sure. Let me put down my weapon and dodge the IED’s just to get to a fucking computer so I can INFORM YOU I ain’t fucking coming back. I never was.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about me at this point, Conlon. Was it too difficult for you to call Paddy and tell him his wife died?!”

“That gonna bring her back? Huh? Pops killed her long before we ever left.” I shuddered from the chill in his stare. 

Tommy waved his hand at me, “Go fucking party or whatever you was doing. Glad to see the years turned you in to such a bitch.” He buried his hands deep inside his hooded jacket and hunched his shoulders looking blankly down the street probably anticipating Paddy’s homecoming.

I walked up one step and leaned in somewhere towards him. “I might have turned in to a bitch, but that’s because I was practically married to a piece of work like the one you turned in to.”

Tommy’s head turned slowly towards mine again. We were so close I could catch his crooked teeth whenever he responded, even in the dark. “What’sat supposed to mean?” his words slurred together. From either the drugs and liquor, or his Pittsburgh accent was slipping through.

I picked up the bottle of whiskey hidden in the brown paper bag. I held it up, shaking it as I broke the news. “The Paddy apple don’t fall far from the tree, huh Tommy? I should have known you were a Conlon by the way you wreak of liquor.” 

I walked out in to the middle of Grand Ave. and chucked the bottle over the guardrails our cars were parked against. Down over the side of Mount Washington it went. Moments later there was a crash as glass shattered all over the rocky hillside. I brushed my hands off on the folds of my skirt and strutted over to Marcus and Tomi still leaning against the truck. I could hear Tommy cursing and swearing up a storm, but I ignored him.

“Yeah well, I’m glad you got fucking married,” he bellowed. “He can take care of your ass for once. Like I did all them years we was growing up. I hope he knows what a needy little bitch you are. Huh?!”

I paused as I made my way up in to the backseat of the truck. I leaned over the top of the door and screamed back, “He’s fucking dead, you asshole! If you had CALLED or WROTE you would know that! But I tell you what, I’ve learned to fucking take care of myself since you left! I didn’t need you then, and I sure as fuck don’t need you around now! I don‘t know WHAT you are doing here, but why don‘t you go back to Iraq?!”

I slammed the door shut, hiding my face in my hands. Then my friends wouldn’t see the warm tears flowing freely down my cheeks. Tommy angrily shook his head as he sat back down on the stairs. I didn’t recognize that man with his arms around his knees, ski cap pulled low over his eyes. Where had my childhood protector gone? 

By now I’m sure everyone has seen the video. You know the one on YouTube so aptly titled “Pittsburgh Beatdown?” It’s akin to this Andy Warhol exhibit we have in town where he took photographs of actual car accidents. And these car accidents are violent and gory. There are real dead human beings in these, mangled vehicles. Yet nothing prevents you from staring at, even studying the destruction; the beauty in the brutality captured on black and white film. Pittsburgh Beatdown to me is JUST like those photos.

Sure, when we were growing up Tommy was a wrestler. He wrestled, Brendan wrestled and Paddy boxed. Mostly Paddy used his wife and kids as punching bags after he retired from the ring. He took to training his boys to follow in his footsteps. Outside of the mat though Tommy and Brendan were good kids. Passive save for Tommy’s temper tantrums that were never aimed at anyone but the unfortunate wall or door. The legacy of their father’s violence seemed to blessedly skip the generation belonging to the Conlon boys. Brendan was as gentle with his little girls as someone would be with a fine set of China. Tommy though.. 

When Marcus showed me the video one night it made me sick to my stomach. The Tommy I grew up with didn’t even like violent movies let alone have the capability of pounding the ever-loving shit out of a guy almost twice his size. Mad-Dog Grimes had a reputation in this area for being an ignorant, foul, vicious son-of-a-bitch. Tommy Conlon didn’t just knock him out, he HUMILIATED him. ON CAMERA. Except now he was Tommy Riordan. How dare he act so.. Sadistically with another human being (granted we all agreed Grimes deserved it) and use his mother’s name? Bridget would be FURIOUS her son was behaving like a barbarian. How could Tommy even fathom conducting himself no differently than Paddy? But the biggest question I had in my nausea and fury was, “Who in the HELL trained Tommy Conlon to be a well-oiled carnage robot? And is a carnage robot even a real thing?!”

I finally saw Tommy while enjoying a night of debauchery at Piper‘s Pub. What can I say? Those with Celtic and Gaelic heritage know how to drink. Lord, they loved my friends and I here; fuck if we didn’t love them back. It also happened to be April Fool’s Day, but by the end of the weekend Tommy and I would be the fools. 

The thick Scottish brogue of the bartender, Gordon, carried across to our table as he tried to strike up a conversation. He poured Tommy shot after shot of Jameson. Then I watched with almost bittersweet nostalgia as Gordon sat a bottle of Scotch on the bar directly in Tommy’s line of sight. It was on the house, in honor of Paddy Conlon who was only welcomed here because he used a month’s severance pay. In one night.

The last time Gordon saw Tommy was almost two decades ago. Paddy thought it was a good idea to bring his son here after Tommy’s gold medal wins at the Junior Olympics. Gordon turned a blind eye as Paddy teased his youngest boy with that gravely voice. “C’mon, kid. Pops will make you a man!” Tommy downed that shot, gasping for air. He replayed the story later that night on my back roof, swearing to me that Paddy was force-feeding him gasoline. Now he was knocking whiskey back like it was a hidden talent.

I quickly drank my own whiskey sour then grabbed Tomilynn’s and finished hers as well. I needed the warmth of the liquor to run through my veins as I half-stumbled across the floor and over to the bar. I saddled up a few feet down from Tommy waving at Gordon. “Oi, Gordon!” I shouted over the juke box blaring in the corner beside him. “How about some of that Glen Fiddich you have so graciously gifted The Incredible Hulk here?” I made a drunken bid to caress the back of Tommy’s neck. He turned slowly to glare at me. If looks could kill, Tommy would be going away for first-degree murder.

I snatched my hand back quickly and took the bottle right from under Tommy’s nose. “Sorry, Conlon.” My words come out slurred, and I stand with my face too close to his. The smell of scotch and whiskey pungent on both of our lips. “People will start to think you’re no better than the old man. But, if you drink with friends!” 

I slipped my heels off and hopped up on the bar, sitting on my knees. I raised the bottle high above my head and gave a loud whistle so that everyone stopped to turn and watch my every move. “ALL HAIL THE CONQUERING HERO!” I shouted for everyone to hear. “Like the rest of us Yinzers, Tommy RIORDAN,” I emphasized the Riordan for everyone to understand he is no longer a Conlon, “Has been forged in Steel! Thanks to You Tube he is a fucking overnight sensation! HERE’S TO THE FEW, THE PROUD, THE FUCKING UNITED STATES MAR-”

Before I could finish my sentence, I felt a strong hand around my mouth and a painful grip around my waist. Tommy yanked me from the bar and set me down on the floor before he tugged me by the wrist through the crowd and out in to the night. He pushed me away roughly and glared at me. “Don’t you ever tell anyone my fucking business, got it, Red?” he spat the command at me.

I rolled my eyes dramatically and slipped my heels back on. “What the fuck ever, Tommy. You don’t think someone’s bound to recognize you from the Corps? You’re MARINES. I heard your Special Ops can track down a tick on the ass of a pig in a jungle.” I reached in between my cleavage and grabbed a cigarette and sighed. No lighter.

Tommy closed his eyes in an overdrawn blink and glanced out towards busy Carson Street. He tilted his head and inhaled loudly; his exhale came out in a low growl. From inside of his jacket pocket he pulled out a toothpick and started to chomp on the tip. I see the tiniest of smiles has played across those lips of his before he sparked a lighter I didn’t realize he was holding. “Those will fucking kill you, Kid.”

I cocked my eyebrow and shrugged. “Alcoholism should have killed Paddy years ago, but he’s still here.” 

Tommy bristled at the mention of Paddy’s name. He turned, hands in his pockets, and started walking down the street. I watched him pull a ski hat out of another pocket to place low over his eyebrows. Tommy managed to make it to the end of the city block before I chased after him foolishly in my pumps. I refused to drop the cigarette I paid a fortune for, but relinquished it when Tommy began a light jog up Sarah Street and over to Jane. I wasn’t completely sure he wanted me to follow until he looked over his massive shoulder to see if I was still behind him. By now I held those damn shoes in my hand and followed as close to him as I could. How sweet of him to go well below the norm so I could play catch up. A sudden turn and we were running down a suddenly steep alleyway between two buildings. A large “Colt’s Pittsburgh Fight Club” sign shown fluorescent and painfully bright above Tommy who leaned against the stone wall. The adrenaline of running made the alcohol pump almost violently through my veins; I struggled to focus on the man in front of me.

“Again with the what the fucks, Tommy.” My breath cannot be regulated and my heart pounded wildly in my ears. I put my hand out so I could steady myself against his chest. I let a soft contented sigh escape my lips as I do it, a dopey smile absently formed on my mouth. “Why the hell did you come back to Pittsburgh?”

Tommy gently leaned me against the club wall and began to pick at the lock. “Paddy,” he retorted.

I tilt my head and my mouth dropped in disbelief. “Uh, come again Conlon? Did you just say Paddy?!”

Tommy looked at me out of his peripheral vision as he concentrated on the door. A moment later and the door popped open. He put a strong arm around my waist and ushered me inside. The only light to guide our way were emergency, but still I followed him in and past the ring. “I need trained to fight. A big fight, worth five million bucks. Paddy got me six Olympic medals.”

Back behind some punching bags and sparring mannequins Tommy and I traveled. I went with him up a flight of concrete stairs to a back office. In the corner stood a cot with Tommy’s military issued duffle bag underneath it. I examined the room while Tommy leaned almost seductively against what I guessed was Colt’s desk. 

I walked over and flopped down on the cot. As I tossed my shoes beside me and rubbed my throbbing feet I narrowed my eyes in Tommy’s direction. “No. He starved you and worked you like a dog. You won those Olympic medals all on your own Tommy. I’d know, I saw you get three of them.”

Tommy threw his hands up, “Yeah I’m just that good ain’t I?” For what felt like the millionth time this evening I rolled my eyes at him. He opened his arms and made a come here motion with them. “C’mere. Lemme get a good look at you. It’s been fucking forever. I deserve that much.”

I stood up and made my way to stand in front of him. Tommy put his hands on either of my hips and gripped them hard. He heaved me forward and in to him in an awkward movement that enveloped me in his arms. He.. Hugged me? Yes, he hugged me. I melted. Then, before I could protest, his mouth was smashed against mine. My knees buckled underneath me like they had when I was fourteen. The last thing I remembered was Tommy taking the blanket off the cot before he lowered me to the concrete floor of Colt’s office.


	3. Push The Dangerous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s hard to feel the rush. To push the dangerous. I’m gonna run right to, to the edge with you.

I rolled over on my side, cold concrete coming up beneath whatever I had been laying on. I threw an elbow over my eyes to shield them from the sudden brightness of the florescent bulbs. My brain started to register the surroundings. I had been temporarily lost as I slept off the Scotch from earlier. Covering my eyes now with my hand I groaned., Colt Boyd’s office.

I scrambled around for a cell phone. Nothing. I found the clock on the wall, a slow shiver crawled along my spine from the cement beneath me. What in the HELL was I on that was so precarious? I put my hand out to feel towels. Starched, questionably clean towels. Disgusting. Thanks, Tommy.

It was only 4:45 in the morning. I had slept so hard though! Was it really only half an hour ago that Tommy stood, frustrated, in that doorway? He had huffed like an angry bull after I told him our frenzied attempt at sex wasn’t working. I hated the look across his face. I opened my arms and implored him to take me if he wanted. If it would make him feel better; get some kind of release besides all of this anger. 

“No. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want. You stay here ‘n’ sleep off the booze. Imma go downstairs ’n’ spar a little. Ain’t good to be pent up,” he said through gritted teeth. I really couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or genuine. 

I squinted my eyes as I caught some kind of noise that floated through the air. I closed them and concentrated. Was that, yelling? Growling? Tommy?!

I grabbed the nearest shirt I could find. I threw Tommy’s tank-top over my head and made my way slowly down the stairs in to the gym. In retrospect I should have put my heels back on or I might end up with like, ring worm. I snaked through the labyrinth of punching bags until my ears were consumed with the beast-like sounds coming from Tommy Conlon. Even his form took on the shape of something akin to a rabid werewolf as he brutalized the sparring mannequin.

I concealed myself behind the stairs that lead to the newly built cage in Colt’s gym. I watched in complete fear as Tommy yelled. Or growled. Maybe it was a howl? Whatever came out of his throat, along with whatever move he enacted, took such force the mannequin splintered. The “man” shape that he sparred with collapsed on the floor at his feet. 

My heart leapt to my throat, but other places in me weren’t so quick to be terrified. Tommy lowered his gloved hands to his sides. He stood almost at military attention, shoulders and spine completely erect. His fists stayed clenched as his body heaved. I took my chances and came out of hiding.

“Tommy?” I asked cautiously.

“What?!” he replied angrily, turning in my direction.

“I. What the hell is wrong with you? You smashed that dummy in two like it was nothing. Are you REALLY that angry about Paddy?”

“It’s none of your fucking business why I’m so angry. Why don’t you go to church in two hours and pray for me? You found God too, huh? I see your crucifix.”

I bit my lip though anger flared in my cheeks. “My faith got me through things you couldn’t even imagine. Why can’t you just let Paddy and I believe in this ‘mumbo-jumbo horseshit’ as you called it.”

“You two go on and believe a magic man up in the sky is gonna make all your lives better. Like a couple of stupid kids.”

“Fuck you, Tommy. You’re the douche-bag with a tattoo of the VIRGIN MARY! She’s a religious ICON!” I felt my nails dig in to my palm as I clenched my fist in anger. “Fuck the religion talk. Let us believe in good and hope and a better world after this shit hole. You can be angry and sulky and a fucking wildebeest all you want. I think all Paddy and I want to do is make you better somehow. That’s it.”

Tommy walked close enough that I could see the sweat dripping down his face. He chewed on a toothpick, but took it out and threw it on the floor. His face was just inches from mine. “You wanna take care of me? Huh? Is that what that was up’ere in Colt’s office? You was gonna take care of me by spreading your legs? Let me bang the anger outta myself? Is that what good little Catholic girls is doing these days?”

For the first time in my life I reacted. No thinking, just reaction. I slapped Tommy with all the force I could muster. He looked at the cage then back at me. He clenched his jaw tightly. I slapped him again. The blood pounded in my ears. I closed my eyes and waited for the blow. In every fiber of my being I knew Tommy Conlon would never hit a woman.

He grabbed the back of my head, pulling me towards him. Strong fingers tangled in my hair, but he squeezed my neck with a surprising softness. The sting of the slap still etched on his cheek, but clarity returned to his eyes. I watched the fire in them extinguish.

"Where do you go, Tommy that you are so lost. So.. Consumed with rage?" I whispered the query softly, uncertain of his reaction.

"Someplace I never want you to follow me." 

“Look, Tommy. I never meant anything I said outside a few weeks ago; about your mom being disappointed in you, or your being no better than Paddy. I was just angry. I have fourteen YEARS of anger and sadness coming out. You never came for me like you promised. You got away from the monsters.”

Tommy’s hands spread from the small of my back to the valley between my shoulders. He held me against his chest, sweat seeping through his shirt that I was wearing. He pressed his forehead to mine, “Never apologize for the things you say, Kid. I go off-road sometimes; someone’s gotta have the stones to bring me back. And just ‘cause Ma and I ran to Tacoma don’t mean I got away from the dragon. I etched him in to my skin for Christ’s Sake.”

“Can you just, kiss me now?” I gripped his biceps softly. Not quite sure what I was getting in to, maybe I was running in to the danger instead of away from it. 

Instead of my lips, Tommy pressed his mouth to my collarbone. He pulled my waist up in to him as he littered my neck and chest with eager kisses. I laughed, unnerved by his sudden tenderness. “I find Mixed Martial Arts to be barbaric, and it was terrifying to watch you shatter a sparring mannequin. Whatever. Are hard-ons normal?” spilled from my mouth before I could prevent it.

“Only when I’m worked up,” he breathed huskily in to my ear. Tommy suddenly held me at arm’s length and stared in to my eyes. “Wanna get in the cage?” A trace of mischief flew across his face; his lips curled in a hard-to-catch smile.

I stared at him with my heart in my throat. I could feel it pounding a cadence in my ears. “Say. S-say that again?” I just wanted to hear it as I trembled.

Tommy took my hand and tugged me towards the cage. “I said,” he glanced back at me over his mountain of a shoulder. He moved fluidly up the steps and opened the door stepping inside. “You wanna go a round with me in the cage?” 

I grasped the fencing as that yearning ache grew in my body. “You’re gonna owe ME two hundred bucks, Conlon.” I stepped inside and shut the door reluctantly. 

He poised himself in a fighting stance, “Only if you win.” 

I stood in utter disbelief once completely inside the cage. My arms dangled at my sides, fingers clenching and unclenching nervously. Tommy was poised in the most intense fighting stance I have ever seen. I feel like I just locked myself in the tiger exhibit at the zoo.

“Come here,” he growls. 

I hesitate towards him slowly. “Alright, Conlon. What do you want out of me here? Is this foreplay?”

“Hit me,” he snarled deeper than moments before, catching me completely off guard.

My head cocked to the side. “Repeat that?” I say in all seriousness.

“Did I fucking stutter? I said HIT ME!” he bellowed the retort. His voice echoed off the walls of the empty gym. 

I am suddenly terrified to be alone with him even though he has been my friend since, well, birth. Trapped here inside this human cock-fighting ring. Mad Dog shouldn’t have been so full of himself. He should have been shitting his pants.

Inside the cage I mimicked Tommy‘s exact stance. I held my fists somewhere between my chest and my stomach. “Thomas James Conlon this is the single most ridiculous thing in my entire life. It’s five in the God-damned morning, I’m half-drunk and you are up OUT YOUR (said like outcher) FUCKING mind! I will NOT hit you. I want to FUCK you!”

He shook his head. Not a single trace of mischief in his eyes now. Tommy was dead set on me punching him. I don’t punch. I’m a dignified woman. I bitch-slap; I’ve already slapped him twice tonight. I shook my head in disbelief and punched him in the chest.

Tommy relaxed his stance. He gave me the best “bitch please” face I have ever seen on a straight man. “That’s all you got? Woman, I broke your HEART! I fucking left you in an abusive home I promised to take you away from. Never told you Ma suffered through ovarian cancer and died. Bridget took care of you, man. You fucking love tap me? You have BALLS! You spent 20 minutes spitting and screaming in my face on a public street airing my dirty laundry for all of Mt. Washington to see, and you fucking hit me like one of them good-for-nothing tramps who don’t wanna break a fucking nail?! Now, I said FUCKING HIT ME!” Tommy roared.

I’m not quite sure how it happened. Like slow-motion or underwater, but I reacted. I felt my arm bend at the elbow, and I punched Tommy in the side of his face. My anger and disappointment and resentment towards him boiled out of me like lava. I knew what it was like to get the shit kicked out of you for nothing other than being alive. To be berated and belittled for existing. He promised me that he would take me away. 18 came and went for me, and Tommy never showed. Well I was 28 years old now, and that pain spilled through my hand and on to his face. I felt relief and excitement as I watched as the blood started to drip from his nose.

Tommy wiped at it with his thumb. “That’s my girl.” His eyebrows wiggled in a sort of smug self-satisfaction. Before I could apologize, he stepped close enough to whisper “Trust me?” before raising his fist and aiming it in my direction. I ducked in shock. 

“What the ACTUAL fuck, Conlon?!” I cried. I didn’t have time to say anything else before he threw what I assumed to be an uppercut. I deflected it easily with my forearm. Years of dodging punches thrown by your mother can do wonders for reflexes I guess. 

He laughed in earnest this time, “Tricky little hellcat ain’t you?”

Tommy grabbed my wrist roughly and twisted my left arm behind my back. “If you wanna beat me it’s gotta be fair n fucking square.” He wrapped his other arm tightly across my collarbone and bared his weight with that arm down on my chest.

“Listen chicky,” he snarls in my ear. “You ain’t angry enough to take me on. I saw that fire a minute ago; now bring it back. Kid, your fiancé and your best friend (meaning him).. We left your ass behind. Neither of us thought you was good enough. I sure as fuck wasn’t ever comin’ for you. I went to Iraq before I came back to this shit town for you.”

His words ripped open my heart. Why was he doing this? Still if Tommy wanted to play, I’d fucking play. “Fuck you.” I growled.

“What? Did you say something?” he laughed through his question condescendingly. I never knew Tommy Conlon to be patronizing.

“Fuck,” I sank my acrylic nails as deep in to his forearms as they would go. Tommy winced and loosened his grip across my body. My arm was still tight behind my back causing a searing pain to run through my entire body. I quickly threw my head back. I felt it collide with his chin instantly. “You.”

Tommy stumbled, laughing like a hyena. “Lesson one,” he held up his index finger, “Any means necessary.” Blood dripped from his nose on to the mat; I could see the deep welts I had made in his arm. 

Tommy raised his head to glance in to my eyes. My chest heaved. I couldn’t have been more turned on if I tried. “Now, flip me.”

“Say what?” I threw my hands up in frustration. “Oh, HELL no! Why not ask me to tear down a brick wall barehanded? Because that’s what flipping you would be like.”

“Why you gotta talk like that? Don’t pussy out on me now. Not after that. Flip me, baby doll, or I take you down right now.”

“What the hell?!” I was all about the confusion tonight.

“Fine,” he caved in. “How about I show you how to body slam?” 

Tommy took my hands at the wrists and instructed me to stand behind him. He placed my arms around his waist. There was a sudden gentleness to how he was treating me. I was awestruck. Was Tommy Bipolar? I had never seen someone’s moods change like his had in the past 45 minutes. I understood from Paddy that he definitely came back with PTSD, but was this one of the symptoms? 

I was quickly pulled from my train of thought by Tommy leading my hands down further than his hips. I didn’t try to stop him as their destination became the hard-on that had been just below the surface of his shorts. There was the drumbeat pounding like the ocean in my head. My breathing almost simultaneously increased.

“Tommy I don’t think that’s regulated by the UFC.”

“Just.. Touch me. Please?” he pled softly. 

I slid my hands inside his shorts and over his erection. My lips found a place in between his massive shoulders to make their way across his back. I let go of his member to maneuver around his body, raising his arm so I could crawl under. My lips never left his skin as I licked slightly at the bruise I discovered from God only knows what. My mouth doesn’t stop though, not until it reached the theatre mask tattoo on his chest. I traced over it with my tongue while my hands worked their way back inside his shorts. Tommy shuttered violently and wrapped his arms around me.

Tommy’s member is back in my hand and my fingers faced down. I stroked in that direction as well. My left hand is up over his shoulder. Those fingers pulled softly on the hair at the nape of his neck. I run my hand up and down his hard-on, grasping at it with gentle pressure. Tommy’s hips bucked ever-so-slightly. 

Tommy seized my wrists, this time with only one of his huge hands. With the other he tugged at the bottom of my shirt. He jerked the fabric up and over my head to expose my breasts. There was a sudden intake of breath from Tommy as he gazed down at them.   
Suddenly he picked me straight up off the mat. Instinct kicked in; I wrapped my legs around his body as he “threw” me down on the mat somewhere between rough and.. Oh, who the fuck cares?! Tommy Conlon threw me on the mat.

Tommy fervently attacked my neck with his lips. He grabbed a breast in his hand, squeezing not too softly this time. I exhaled; the ache was back between my legs. Tommy’s mouth encompassed my other breast. He sucked and bit affectionately at it like a tiger cub. Then I felt a hand between my legs. My breath caught in my throat as he rubbed at the outside of my panties. Tommy continued to kiss his way up to my neck. His lips blazed a trail behind my ears. A hand tangled in my hair as the other worked its way under the fabric. I felt Tommy push his fingers inside of me, and I inhaled sharply. I was turned on but winced.

“Ow,” I tried to say with my throat dry. All that escaped my lips was a whisper. “Tommy stop,” I was as assertive as I could be. In the past I let men treat me however they pleased. I would say that I was being pleasured when in reality it was just like going to the gyno.

To my relief, Tommy paid attention. His eyes unexpectedly stared in to mine. They radiated concern. “You don’t like that?” quizzically fell from lips between ragged breaths. I noticed for the first time the hand in my hair quavered. Now all Tommy resembled was an uncertain, nervous teenage boy.

“I had a tonsillectomy, so I’m not sure what you were reaching for in there. The goods are on the OUTSIDE, Tommy.” I kissed the palm of his hand. “Put your fingers here,” I placed his fingertips against my pearl. Neither of us could breathe. “Then move them like this.” My hand covered his. I pushed his fingers in a slow, counterclockwise circular motion. “Lightly,” I ordered him. I licked my lips and took my hand away to let Tommy work on his own. He was a quick study. 

The tip of Tommy’s tongue drew a line along the base of my neck. It dipped in and around the structure of my clavicle. His fingers worked deftly causing my hips to raise off the mat. “I guess you gotta go easy sometimes,” he sighed in to my ear before biting at the lobe. 

Down again to my breasts Tommy’s mouth journeyed. He only stayed briefly before making a path down to my stomach. He sucked on the silver ball pierced through my naval and plunged his tongue inside. Out of the blue Tommy sat up, his mouth in a devilish grin. He bit the side of his bottom lip as he hooked his fingers in the waist band of my panties to yank them smoothly over my hips. He leaned down to kiss each one of my thighs as he puts an arm under my knees. Those full lips met the skin between each thigh lightly. My body was on fire. The sweat formed on my forehead the moment Tommy’s tongue circled my bead as his fingertips had moments before.

“That’s not,” is all I heard myself utter. It was all I had in me. My nails buried themselves in Tommy’s shoulders. The skin was taut against the sheer size of muscle he has developed in the Marines. It’s not easy, but they sink in like they had on his forearm. His were dug deep in to the curve of my hips. I couldn’t take the fever his tongue was creating between my thighs anymore. I moaned loudly.

Tommy sat bolt upright. My nails raked down his body their grip was so hard. I put my hand on my face, disgusted. I was about to get off. What gives? 

“Red, I don’t want you to have it all before I’m ready.” Tommy cocked an eyebrow in my direction. He struggled to pull his shorts off. I took this as my cue. 

I sat up on my elbows and started to slide backwards away from Tommy. I attempted to crawl, but my legs and hips were full of adrenaline and my parts throbbed.

“Where the Hell are YOU going?!” Tommy exclaimed seriously. I caught the smirk somewhere in the back though. 

“I decided to escape submission!” I giggled.

“Oh. Yeah? I don’t think you’re gonna get too far.” 

Tommy grabbed my ankle, but I kept going back towards what I believed was the door. I laughed simply because the further away I got the quicker he was to follow. Tommy held my foot tightly. It was absurd. I mean, we were nude. We had been read to kill one another an hour ago. Now Tommy has a vice grip on my foot, crawling around the cage like a mostly hairless beast . His laughter matched mine soon. It rang throughout Boyd’s jovially. It was just good to hear him express amusement for the first time in the two and a half months he had been back. I thought he had forgotten. Maybe left his sense of humor behind with Bridget in her grave or in the deserts of the Middle East. 

I shook off his hold by kicking my foot a few times. I am quick to make sure I don’t damage a face I’ve already bloodied and bruised. I grab on to the fencing of the cage which stops my backwards motion. Which allows me to get up off the mat to make my way FINALLY towards the door. Before I reached safety, strong arms caught me from behind.

“You ain’t got anywhere to go,” Tommy replies matter-of-factly. His right hand overpowered mine to raise it up along the wall of the cage. He twisted our fingers together through the chain-link fencing. Tommy was right, I was trapped.

“Now submit,” Tommy growled in to my ear.

He crushed my hands in to the wire and ensnared me with his body. I writhed about trying to get loose, but it was only half-assed. His member twitched against the small of my back.

“I said submit,” he growled again.

“Fuck you, Tommy.” I laughed at the absurdity of the whole thing. This was by far the kinkiest thing I had ever done.

Tommy placed his knee between mine and parted them, “Wrong answer.”

He twisted his left arm somehow under mine with his hand holding the back of my neck. His muscles tensed as he took his right hand and grabbed a hold of his erection. Tommy guided himself inside of me and thrust upwards. I gasped. My legs buckled underneath me, but he caught my leg where my knee bends in the back. He lifted my leg, instructing me silently to put my foot in the chain-link fencing. He pushed inside of me again.

I was completely unaware of my surroundings. Tommy’s dragon tattoo was all I could see. His left hand stayed on my neck, pushing my body down on him as he drove upwards. His right hand massaged my breast, but didn’t stop there. It made its way between my legs. Tommy slipped his thumb inside where I showed him before.

His thumb worked in circles as he continued to thrust in to me. My breasts smashed up against the cage as he waged war with me furiously. My hips jolted and jerked as he growled from deep in his throat. There I was again on the edge of glory while Tommy plowed in to me feverishly as deep as our bodies would allow. 

I wasn’t even holding myself up anymore as I cried out somewhere between a moan and begging for mercy. Tommy let out a chuff. One last plunge, and his body earth-quaked. All of the tension and anger he held on to with a vice-like grip seemed to release inside of me. 

“FUCK!” he bellowed as he climaxed. Then a grumble growl was all he managed as he pulled out of me to take a few steps back. The words that flowed from his mouth were incoherent as he sunk to his knees on the mat. I slid down the fencing on to my own knees. My head supported by the cage when my body went in to one last pleasurable spasm before I turned to face Tommy. He was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

I crawled over to him slowly and collapsed at his side with my head on his chest. Tommy threw an arm around me loosely and kissed my forehead almost absentmindedly. “We have to go, Tommy,” I whispered still breathless. “Let’s go back to Pop’s place and get cleaned up. Ok?” 

I raised my head, my body still pressed against his, and I looked up at his face. Tommy nodded in response. His eyes came down from the bright lights and met mine. “I’d say we both earned $200 bucks this time.”


	4. Don't Pay No Mind to the Demons They Fill You with Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trouble it might drag you down. If you get lost you can always be found.

The sun was peeking through the clouds when Tommy and I made our way back up the hill to Paddy’s from the gym. I walked like I had a been riding a horse for a month. I did my best to conceal the blood stains Tommy’s nose left along my chest. I hadn’t noticed them until we walked down the steps that lead to the side street. On my breasts. On my stomach. Everything was covered in dried blood from the damage I had done to Tommy‘s nose. There were bruises that formed on the inside of my thighs from how Tommy maneuvered me against the cage. I pulled Tommy’s hoody tight around my body to keep any early-risers from believing I was a battered woman. 

Tommy had a bit of a spring in his step. Truthfully, if my thighs weren’t numb I probably would have too. It was amazing how little of a fuck he gave being in the chilled Pittsburgh air at sunrise in only a tank top. He chomped with a sense of eerie bemusement on a fresh toothpick. He only stole sideways glances in my direction as we wandered down Grand Avenue towards our neighboring houses. I admired how he wore his bruises, split lip, bloodied nose and black eye proudly. A well-deserved Purple Heart for the lost Marine.

Tommy moved out of my way to allow me in to the Conlon house ahead of him. Neither of us saw Paddy’s car in the drive-way. It struck me as odd because he never left for the diner until at LEAST 9am on Saturdays. He snorted as I deftly slid my hand inside a spider plant on Paddy’s porch to produce our entry in to the house. “Good to see Pops ain’t moved the spare key in 20 years.” 

I shrugged and unlocked the front door letting it open slowly. Tommy stood completely against me from behind, his arm strong around my waist as he noticed my knees weaken at the sight. I took it all in. I had managed to steer clear of this place since the night Tommy and Bridget took off for parts unknown. Since he had sobered up, Paddy had often invited my mother and I over for coffee or a Steelers game. I made excuses not to go, but my mom and several other neighbors opened their hearts to him easily. Especially after finding out Bridget had passed away. I never would get over watching her being carried out on a stretcher all those years ago in front of her kids. Paddy was responsible for the mess his son was.

“Come on, kid. Don’t look at anything ok?” Tommy whispered in my ear. “Just go straight on upstairs, that’s what I do.” 

I let Tommy guide me to the next floor. My head seemed to float as if I was incredibly high on the best weed. I felt dizzy from just the smell. After 18 years Bridget’s perfume lingered in the air. How did Paddy live with this. Like this? Sober. How could Tommy stay here knowing he lost his brother and father that night? Granted Paddy was a horrible father, but underneath the sickness and sadness he loved his sons so much. Maybe even loved his wife. Did Tommy know any of that, or did his anger and resentment completely darken his heart?

I couldn’t focus on anything until we got in the bathroom on the second floor. I felt like I was going to be sick. I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet. After lifting the shag seat cover, I stared inside the bowl for a few minutes. 

Tommy remained behind me, perched on the sink. “You wanna know why I’m such an asshole half the time? Look at it. This house is making you physically sick. You’re about to ralph whatever is left of that bourbon in your system just from coming up the God damned steps.”

I sat up on my haunches, and turned my eyes in the direction of Tommy’s. He squinted his and removed the toothpick he had been chomping on. I studied his tongue dart out to lick his lips. He cooly grabbed hold of his warm-up pants to slip them down his legs. 

“Tommy, what are you doing?!”

“I’d joke that it ain’t gonna suck itself, but you’d probably tear my dick off and serve it to the dog next door,” he chuckled as he held a hand out to pull me to my feet.

“That’s a dick I would hang over my fireplace,” I crossed my arms and cocked an eyebrow. I pursed my lips and prayed my heaving chest wouldn’t betray how ready I was for him to be inside of me again.

“I bet you fucking would, kid. I was thinking we both could use a shower.” Tommy mocked me as he imitated my stance. I caught a brief glimpse of crimson blaze across his cheeks. Was he nervous?

“I look like a crime scene from Law and Order: SVU, so yeah I think I need a shower. Thanks for offering. Now arrivederci, Roma.” 

I playfully grabbed Tommy by the arms and attempted to push him towards the door. He planted his feet squarely in place. I felt mine slipping on the shag carpet covering the linoleum floor as I shoved with all my might. (Shag was so in back in the 70’s. Pittsburgh houses NEVER changed.) Tommy didn’t budge an inch as my legs went a good foot behind the rest of my body. 

Then instantly a strange music began to fall from those perfectly full lips. He was laughing, honest and pure. “I was a Staff Sergeant in the Marine Corps. Plus I’ve been wrestling for 25 years, and cage-fighting for about 3 or 4. I ain‘t moving, Little Girl.”

“Fuck you, Tommy! How are you so fucking strong? You’re like 5’9.”

“Engineering, kid . Look at the musculature on this body! I’m all shoulder and calf. I AM A GOD!” he almost giggled. Giggled? I didn’t know Tommy Conlon could giggle. 

“Just stop it, ok? When I said shower,” his laughter died down in to seriousness,   
“I meant together,” 

Tommy seized my wrists again. He put my hands back down at my side and took hold of my shoulders to back me up slowly to the toilet seat. He got down on the floor in front of me and put his hands on my knees. They made my way up my thighs and took the elastic band of my yoga pant. Tommy stripped them off of me slowly. He took a moment to lift each one of my feet out of the pant leg by holding on to the ankle. He bent down to kiss each one of my knees. My body quivered.

Tommy stood up to pull his tank top over his head. He slid his shorts down nimbly before opening the curtain to turn the shower on. I followed suit, anxiously dropped my panties. Yes, I understand the humor in that. Tommy Conlon made my panties drop. 

I gawked, removing my own shirt, as Tommy climbed inside the shower. He held out a hand to me, that devilish grin spread across those delicious lips. I found a sense of confidence when I placed my tiny hand inside of his. His fingers closed over mine as I stepped in beside him. Tommy shut the shower curtain behind us as I folded my hands in what resembled a mock prayer. My forearms covered my breasts as I moved under the spray letting it miss me completely. I was content to observe as he reached somewhere above me for body wash or shampoo. He unscrewed the cap with one hand as he took mine gently and forced them to open. My heart did a marathon as he squeezed some of the gel in my palm then handed me the bottle. Tommy held his open palm so I could reciprocate. 

“You first,” he instructed.

I slowly worked up a lather with the body wash then stretched my arms out towards Tommy’s chest. I spread the soap outwards over his collarbone then shoulders. I moved mere inches away from him as I washed in slow circles to his stomach. My hands made a path to his hips, around to his backside. I molded my body against his as I went, my hands trailed upwards over his shoulders yet again. My lips found their way to his chest hungrily. I nipped and bit at Tommy’s neck making my way up to his chin. I attempted to kiss his lips, but he turned his head away from me. They landed on his jaw line just as I grabbed a hold of his growing erection.

Tommy gasped audibly and put one arm around my hips to pull our lower halves together. I wrapped my fingers around his member and stroked softly. He shivered and braced himself against the wall. I worked skillfully with my hand and fingers as my lips devoured his shoulders. My free hand pressed in to his shoulder-blade. His hips started to shake and a rumble escaped his lips.

“Stop,” he commanded. “My turn.”

Tommy swung me around and I nearly lost my footing. We laughed, but not for long. Tommy was taking to my chest the same way I did to his. His hands worked delicately, taking their time as he massaged my breasts. He bit his lower lip as the blood washed away with the water. This repeated as his hands traveled down my stomach to my thighs. I could feel Tommy studying my face, head thrown back slightly with my eyes closed. My Front teeth dug deeply in to my bottom lip; acrylic nails buried in his hip bones just as far. Tommy took the cue.

I cried out in surprise when I felt the fingers slip inside of me. He used the lesson learned earlier at Colt’s to his advantage. He drew circles with his finger tips in a clockwise motion. Slowly at first, but they quickened when my breath did. The water streamed hot, with Tommy’s massive shoulders providing a shield. It took me a moment to register it then when the shower suddenly hit me in the face.

I recovered in time to see Tommy on the floor of the shower. Down on his knees, a hand around my ankle to put it up on the ledge. His lips blazed up the inside of my thigh to find a way in. Tommy’s tongue darted around like a snake‘s. They effortlessly found my pearl. I braced myself with one hand on his head absentmindedly playing with his hair. Tommy’s tongue assaulted me, and my thighs started an attempt to lock around . Hands grasped at my hips as he made long strokes with his tongue that ended in flicks.

I licked my lips and attempted to speak. “To-Tommy. Tommy!” I begged.

He looked up at me. The devil in his eyes. “Yeah?” he spoke huskily.

“Fuck me.”

He mocked the inability to hear me. “What’s that?” he inquired, his erection pressed against my thigh.

“Don’t make me beg,” I pled breathlessly.

Tommy didn’t respond verbally because I wouldn’t let him. I forcefully grabbed a hold of him to direct him inside of me. Tommy put one hand flat on the tiled wall. The other he wound under my propped leg before he plunged inside.

Tommy didn’t waste time by starting off slow. He thrust as far inside of me as he could with a fever. As he drove in he pulled my hips down so that they crashed in to his pelvis. Each time more furious than before. We found an intense rhythm, both of us moaning and growling, gasping for air almost drowning in the waterfall around us.

In a heated moment, Tommy tore off the shower curtain. He wrapped his arms around me. Then Tommy grabbed me out of the shower before setting me on the bathroom floor. He yanked the shower knob off before coming at me almost like a football player. He scooped me up and scrambled to find the handle of the bathroom door. We stumbled out in to the hallway comically. He reached down to my backside and lifted me in an unspoken motion to wrap my legs around his waist.

I felt like we were re-enacting a page from a harlequin romance. Especially as Tommy strong-armed me up the steps to the attic bedroom. His lips worked at a ridiculous pace ton my neck. He bit me not so playfully, but still refused to kiss me on the mouth as we stumbled in to the room. He nearly tripped over the stand filled with his wrestling trophies alongside the twin bed carved in to a nook in sloped ceiling. 

In the back of my mind I felt blasphemous as we tumbled on to his bed, Tommy beneath me. We were kids in this bedroom. I remembered the lamps he and Brendan made in woodshop. There was the Terrible Towel, the 1992 Stanley Cup Champion Pittsburgh Penguins banner, even the sheets on his bed hadn’t changed since he left. The only thing about this little boy’s room that had altered, was the grown man under me whose shoulders were so broad he barely fit in the room let alone this bed we shared as children.

I looked down at Tommy as I straddled him. I guided him inside then began to ride him. I clawed at the wall above the headboard.” A colorful drawing of a mythical warrior, Theongenes, graced the trunk. There was a graph to show how many wrestling matches a young Tommy needed to defeat him. How our dreams change with time. How they fall apart. Now his very grown-up hands reached up to my breasts. He squeezed them softly before burrowing in to the curves of my hips. He worked me so that he was able to plunge deep in my womb as I gyrated my hips. Tommy pressed his thumb to my bead, making circular motions. I could only gasp in response. I started to feel the fire blaze in my soul. We kept at this pace until Tommy bucked his hips towards the ceiling; he roared one final time. I wasn’t quite that close yet; Tommy knew that. He sat up, thumb and now index finger still working at my clit. My thighs roughly locked up around his pelvis as I curved backwards in release. 

I cried out with what started as Tommy’s name, but my scream was suddenly silenced by that mouth. Those large, delicious lips covered mine powerfully. He took my face in his hands while our mouths meshed together passionately as I came. One seized the back of my head as our tongues danced. I whimpered one more time against his lips. Our mouths and tongues tangled up in each other as Tommy laid me down on the bed. He fixed his eyes on mine, fingers moving wet hair away that was stuck to my face. 

“I don’t know when Pops will be back.”

“Maybe I should go,” I offered.

Tommy shook his head, “Stay.” And I did. For two days.


	5. Some Nights, I Wish That My Lips Could Build A Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The most amazing things that can come from some terrible lies.

I was startled away by the sound of my phone vibrating out text messages. I rolled over in the empty bed to fiddle for the damnable thing. I had been heavily asleep after 24 solid hours awake. Tapping the screen I checked the time: 6pm. Fantastic. Who needed Saturday? I slid my finger around the touch screen to get my messages. I had 3. They were all from Tess. 

_Tess C: OMG PADDY WAS JUST HERE! CAN U BELIEVE HE HAD THE GUTS 2 SHOW UP ON OUR DOORSTEP?! BEG 4-GIVENESS MY ASS. GOOD 4 U SONOFABITCH WITH UR 1000 DAYS!_

_Tess C: What the hell is this about Tommy being back? Have u seen him? What’s he look like? Hot? Like Brendan?_

_Tess C: Where in God’s name are u? Can u believe Pop’s nerve driving here trying to make amends after embarrassing the shit out of us at Emily’s baptism?!_

I had known Tess Conlon since she was Teresa Sunseri. Don’t let the blonde hair fool you, she is half-blooded Italian. She babysat me- more like hung out- when Bridget couldn’t. My mom was a nurse who worked a lot of odd shifts. If she wasn’t at the hospital, she was at home. Beating the shit out of me. I found solace at the Conlons’ house, but also with Tessie.

Tess lived on Grand Avenue proper, where the richer families lived. Like the Kennys, who owned Kennywood Amusement Park. Her family owned one of the largest Italian markets in Pittsburgh. Tess is smart, kind, defiant, opinionated and unquestionably beautiful. She met Brendan in the fall of their Freshman year at North Catholic; they fell almost instantly in love. They were my lifelong role models of what a healthy relationship ought to be like, and thank God for that.

Tess was more than a babysitter, though. She became my mentor and my best friend despite our five year age difference. I was one of her bridesmaids when she and Brendan got married, and I’m the Godmother of 3 year old Rosie. Tess picked up my pieces and put me back together more times than I can count. There was no way I could force Tommy to understand, but I could appreciate why Brendan chose to be with her over his family.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and replied surreptitiously:

_Me: Yeah I know Tommy’s back. I’ve seen him a few times. Paddy’s got some BALLS after the stunt he pulled. I miss you guys since you moved._

_Me: I don’t have anyone._

_Tess C: LIAR! I’m bringing the girls 4 a visit @ the end of April/early May. Brendan is wrapped up in this..thing. He pisses me off. Why do I love him?_

_Me: Must be that old Conlon charm. ;)_

That “old Conlon Charm” was why I had shared this hobbit-sized bed with a man whose width from shoulder to shoulder was quite possibly four feet. I scooted off the bed, legs stiff with immobility, then threw on the only outfit I could find: track pants, a long-sleeved shirt and a ski hat. I felt like Rocky Balboa. I stretched dramatically as I headed downstairs to see if I could locate Tommy.

I stopped to examine the photos Paddy kept along the walls. Memories flooded back in like a tsunami. Nothing changed in this house. Not the wallpaper. Not the carpeting. The portraits were a bit dusty I noticed as I ran my fingers over them. I wandered in to the living room to see that Paddy even had the television set he and Bridget got in the 80’s with a VCR. A VCR?! 

I was in a daydream as I brushed my hand lightly over the metal TV tray in front of Paddy’s ratty old recliner. The shag carpeting was warm beneath my feet. Time had stood still for Pops Conlon. Brendan staying behind to sweep up the broken glass of their family didn’t even matter to him. Was it because he felt guilty about the pain and suffering he inflicted on everyone for all that time? Was it because Tommy was going to be a meal ticket? Why were there no pictures in this entire house, save one, of Tommy?  
I shook my head and journeyed in to the dining room. I shivered as the sounds of “that night” flew back to me. The night Paddy destroyed two brothers and his wife’s spirit. My stomach went sour; my feet moved faster than they needed to. I only stopped when I heard Tommy arguing loudly.

“Colt I told you, I ain’t in! You shoulda told me you were gonna do this.” 

Silence.

“No. You ask ME first, not the old man. Got it? Yeah, whatever. Go ahead and call him. I don’t give a shit.” Tommy slammed the phone back in the cradle.

I cleared my throat and stepped in to the kitchen. Tommy’s scowl quickly turned in to a crooked grin. He snatched me up and kissed my forehead softly.

“I had no idea you could sleep that long. Seriously, I’ve been awake since about noon,” he snorted. “You hungry?”

My stomach growled, and I clutched it. “Starved.”

“How’s about you hop up on the counter and keep me company while I make you something?” 

I stared at Tommy in disbelief. Hoisting myself on to the counter, I watched as he rummaged around for a bowl. Then he rooted around for a frying pan before pulling out pancake mix from underneath me. He hummed something under his breath as he opened the fridge and clamored around for eggs and bacon in the meat drawer. 

“Gotta hand it to Paddy. He hasn’t moved a damned thing in this house in 20 years,” he said with a shrug.

Tommy put everything down on the counter beside me and went to work on the pancake batter. I gawked at him expertly mixing ingredients without even looking at the box or using measuring cups. He stirred the batter with one hand while he cracked an egg with the other.

“Conlon?” I poked his exposed bicep.

His eyes never left the pan as he prodded the egg whites with the fork prongs.   
“You still like dippy eggs (in Pittsburgh these are eggs Sunnyside Up) ?” he waved the fork with every word suddenly in my direction.

“What did they teach you in the Marines, Staff Sergeant?” I teased.

“Cooking? I got good at this stuff when Ma got sick. Had to,” he lowered his eyes to avoid contact. I leaned over and kissed his cheek as he became absorbed in the perfect eggs.

Tommy threw the eggs on my plate. He took to pouring the pancake batter out in perfect circles now. As he spread them so they were the best size with his left hand, he rubbed my knee with his right. The mood was melancholy.

“You remember the only thing Uncle Paddy,“ I paused. This lifelong moniker sounded weird because Tommy and I had just knocked boots three times in a day. I went on anyways, “ All he knew how make were pancakes?” I leaned my head back on the cabinets. “Pancakes for miles. You and Brendan were like Pavlov’s dogs when you smelled them on the stove. Crying and begging for mercy.” I laughed remembering the actual tears that sprang to their eyes when they saw the stacks on the kitchen table.

“Das all Pops was good for: the best blueberry pancakes this side of Pamela’s diner.“ He halted to think, “And training.”

“Aunt Bridget though,” I hesitated. Tommy just flipped pancakes with a cocky, crooked tooth grin. They flew up in the air and landed back in the pan. “She was a saint wasn’t she?”

Tommy slid a few pancakes on to my plate before stalking back to the fridge to pull out a plastic bottle full of protein shake. He slammed it on the counter followed by a biting sarcastic tone. 

“Mother Theresa, Mary Magdalene and the Madonna all in one. So why’d she have to die? In a tiny shit-box during the coldest winter Tacoma’s ever had with no heat. She suffered like a fucking saint.” Tommy stuck his chin out definitely, nostrils flaring heatedly.

“Why did I lose my fiancé and step-son in a car accident a few months before I was supposed to get married?” I returned the challenge. I puffed my chest out with my arms folded in obstinacy. 

Tommy instantly controlled his anger. “I’m sorry.”

“Can we eat? I’m famished. I swear. I feel like I went horseback riding for two days.”

Tommy laughed as we sat down at the kitchen table. “I ain’t no horse! Baby you were riding a BEAST!”

I rolled my eyes and lifted the fork to take a bite. The pancake was poised outside my mouth when I noticed Tommy gazed at it longingly. He sighed and took a sip of his protein shake never taking his eyes away.

“Tommy, you’re as mesmerized by these pancakes as you are my tits. Would you like some?”

He shook his head, “On a strict diet ‘til after Sparta.”

I rolled my eyes and shoved the fork in his face. “Open!”

“No!” he feigned terror at the sight of my night breakfast. Tommy waved his hands and devoured his protein shake like it was prime rib.

“Mangia! Mangia! Apra la bocca!” I shouted in Italian threatening to shove the fork in his mouth if he didn’t. Tommy threw up his arms in defeat. His mouth opened like a baby bird, and I fed him the pancakes. His eyes rolled back in his head; he sighed with contentment.

I happily ate my delicious dinner quickly making sure to feed just about every other bite to Tommy. He was like a ravenous dog with a big juicy bone. Like I would let him waste away. Paddy’s methods were always controversial. Why would you starve yourself just for a chance to beat the fuck out of a few guys? Carb deprivation makes you belligerent. That’s probably why Tommy went from Bruce Banner to the Incredible Hulk in .05 seconds.

I threw my empty dishes in to a sink piled high with them. Reaching under to grab dish soap, I felt Tommy’s hand encompass mine. He squeezed it softly before kissing my fingers and biting at them. 

“Forget it; I’ll do them later. Wanna go ride the incline?” he posed the question with an uncommonly gentle and almost seductive tone for the savage brute he had shown the world. How did this weekend go from me screaming and threatening Tommy Conlon’s life with violence to playing house in 24 hours?


	6. You Can Touch Me If You Want to.  I Got Poison, Just My Body.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"You can't hold me, I'm too slippy."_

Half an hour later we found ourselves sitting across from the dancing fountains at Bessemer Court. I mindlessly sang along to the 80’s music that accompanied bright primary colors; smoking my first cigarette in three days. Tommy cradled a coffee in one hand and happily ate a corndog with the other. It was as if I set him on some sort of carbohydrate binge after he attacked those pancakes. 

I dropped by my house quickly before we left Paddy’s to grab fresh clothes and let my mother know I was going out with Tommy. Except she heard “Tomi,” the name of my best friend. It‘s not like I had to really give an explanation as a grown woman. I wanted to scream, “Hey I’ve been fucking Paddy Conlon’s kid. Dirty. For the past 24 hours. I‘m gonna keep doing it until someone stops us. 

Now I snuggled down in my favorite red sweater. I watched my smoke billow across the chilled April night. Tommy shoved the second half of corn dog in his mouth without chewing and greedily swallowed down his steaming coffee. I chuckled as he got up to throw away the trash. Instead he thought twice and shoved the corn dog stick in his mouth.

“Oh, Tommy. Honestly?!” I shouted playfully at him. 

He pulled me off the bench to point the stick at me, “You get rid of the cancer stick and I’ll get rid of the corn dog stick.” 

I tossed my half-smoked cigarette in a nearby ash tray and folded my arms. “Your turn.”

Tommy sighed, exasperated. He threw the stick on top of my cigarette and started to amble towards the river. I followed a few steps behind noticing the swagger as he walked. A confidence that betrayed his years of child abuse and plausible months of fear and unease in Iraq. His sizeable shoulders stretched the grey thermal shirt he wore. My heart raced as I fantasized about the gallery of tattoos hidden beneath that fabric. The heat that emanated from his skin as my mouth traveled over it. I yearned to be wearing it with him.

“Doll! I said you gonna stand there ’n’ stare at me, or you gonna c’mere?!” Tommy shouted suddenly yards away. I snapped to, jogging to catch up.

The Monongahela (Phonetically that is Ma-non-ga-hay-la) lapped softly against the rocky shore. Somewhere behind me _Total Eclipse of the Heart_ pounded through the Bessemer Court speakers. Standing beside Tommy I could feel the fire pulsating from his body. A flame of embarrassment licked my cheeks. This insatiable desire to melt every single part of us together was ridiculous. Isn’t it funny how something was possibly blossoming after a lifetime of estrangement and a troubling reunion. 

_Does Tommy even feel the same? Was he even really feeling anything for me? Or just playing a part because he thinks that’s what I want?_ I asked myself. He suddenly sidestepped in to me. He caught me off-guard with a rather unrefined kiss that tasted like corn bread then instantly turned towards the river.

Tommy shoved his hands deep inside the back pockets of his jeans staring out at the Pittsburgh skyline. I caught a fleeting glimpse of the 14 year old boy with the world at his feet. The corner of his mouth twisted in to a melancholy smile.

“You wanna know why I do it?” his eyes never left the lights.

“Do what?” I was curious.

“Fight.”

When I didn’t respond he continued, “It’s the only thing I’m good at.”

“What about all those drawings you-“

“Lemme finish, ok?” he interrupted brusquely. I threw up my hands in defense.

“I got a lot going on up here,” Tommy tapped on his forehead. “Crazy shit I don’t want you asking about. It’s none of your damn business. In that cage? *I* get to control the chaos,” he jabbed a thumb in the direction of his chest.

“I got strategies spinning in circles up ‘ere that I need to focus on. I ain’t just swinging at any obstacle that gets in my way. Whatever the hell it might look like in that stupid viral video. See Pop. Pop was so red he’d hit anything he could get his fists on; Ma, Brendan and me. When I fight all that screaming in my head just stops. I’m relaxed? It’s like..” he trailed off and bit his lower lip.

“Tell me, Tommy.” I nudged his arm tenderly.

He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “It’s like I find some kind of peace.”

Silence fell between us. Tommy clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times; hands fidgeting at his sides. The worry began to surface in the lines on his face. Was it a confession that made him crazy. 

I threw myself at him, arms around his waist, and held Tommy as close to me as I could. His arms hung limply at his sides as he registered the embrace. It didn’t take long before he all too willingly responded. I lowered my head against Tommy’s chest. I’m not much shorter, so this was an awkward hug at best. Tommy gave the impression of confusion and discomfort at this act of kindness. Had Tommy isolated himself so much from others since his return that he hadn’t encountered simple affection? How horrible is that notion! Bridget used to hug and kiss both of her boys constantly AND in public. Tommy and Brendan rarely cared to act like obnoxious and embarrassed pre-teens or teenagers when she did it. They were so starved for the calm of her arms in the midst of Paddy’s turmoil. 

“I think MMA is barbaric.“ I don’t bother to hide the disgust. Nervously I glance at Tommy and analyze his demeanor. “It’s like dog fighting with men. Clearly, two consenting men beating the FUCK out of each other is barely easier to swallow than dogs. If you really need this cage fighting, who am I to stand in your way? Just come back to me Conlon. Please?” I murmured nuzzling his chest.

“No promises, Kid. Not this time.”

Those words stung as we held each other for a brief eternity in the chilled air of night. Despite Tommy’s warmth my nose felt like an icicle, so I asked to be taken home.

We silently climbed the stairs of the front porch. Tommy trudged along as I dashed past, eager to get inside. I wasn’t really angry; I couldn’t understand why things were never easy with us. If only clocks could move backwards through time. If Bridget had died in Pittsburgh the course of history would have been shifted. A fixed point in time altered, and Tommy would be more easy-going. 

_How stupid_ , I thought fumbling to unlock the front door. I felt Conlon looming behind me like this morning. His hand around my waist, Tommy turned me slowly by my hips to face him. His hand seized my backside, pulling me against him. Those lips turned in to a pout. Did he imagine his brooding would help me understand the possibility he would never return? There was a yearning in that show of displeasure. And I understood. I was essentially a temporary stop before Sparta. 

Tommy used his free hand to caress the side of my neck. That shirt I longed to envelop myself in brushed against my skin. I marveled his unexpectedly soft hands. I never paid attention to them in the heat of the moment; It sent chills down my spine. There was a sudden static in the air from that one moment. I felt.. Alive.

I became starved for Tommy’s lips. Those full, perfect lips I daydreamt about kissing in my girlhood. Just ripe for the taking. Tommy’s eyes narrowed momentarily as I threw my arms around his neck, fingers grasping at his hair. I tugged his head down towards mine and latched on to his mouth. I pushed my tongue eagerly through and found his all too willing to return the favor. 

We bit with a roughness at our tongues as the two of us stumbled sideways through the front door. Tommy’s hands gripped at my backside as he danced around the front hallway trying to get out of his sneakers. I wrenched the shirt that sparked this effect over his head. I frowned at having to tear our mouths apart. Then my shoulders sank at the wife beater he wore beneath.

“Now you wear two fucking shirts?!” I imitated his gruff accent.

“Hey, you’re wearing a sweater big enough for two people and a bra. Which one of us got it easier?” he huffed back breathless.

I dug at the fabric of his tank top, sinking my claws in to the thin material. I tore sideways and growled as it dropped to the floor. 

“Fuck, Red. I gotta make pancakes more often.” Tommy was bemused.

He took a hold of my sweater in attempt to get it off. I was beyond frustrated he was abruptly inept at getting my bra off. I shoved Tommy away.

“Tell me that you’ll come back,” I hissed.

Tommy’s eye brow raised, “We having sex again, or you just gonna give me blue balls over promises I can’t keep?”

Shockingly I put one of my boots up on Tommy’s chest and shoved him as hard as I could. His eyes widened with surprise as he stumbled backwards on the staircase. Reflexes kicked in immediately and he caught himself without landing too hard. You could say I just “Mad-Dogged” Tommy Conlon. Tommy was even more stunned I put that boot square across his chest as he laid sprawled over the first four steps. I pressed hard enough to make him feel, yet not hard enough to hurt.

“Did I fucking stutter, Conlon? Are you coming back for me?!” I put a little more weight in my heel.

Tommy snorted nervously, his hands up defensively. “FINE! Even if I get killed during the tournament I’ll come back for you! Jesus!”

“What else do you say, Conlon?” I cocked an eyebrow and wore a crooked smirk.

“I submit,” Tommy admitted defeat.

“That‘s a boy,” I winked and took my boot off his chest. 

Thinking he could move, Tommy attempted to find a better position along the stairs but was prevented when I straddled him. Instinctively his hands were back on my ass as I snaked my tongue deep within his mouth. My fingers clutched at his hair while I attempted to overpower him with my tongue. I nimbly undid the button of his jeans and hooked my fingers in the belt loops to help Tommy do away with them. 

Astride him again, I commenced nibbling at Tommy’s neck. My lips maintained their offensive the length of his chest, stopping only to playfully bite at his nipple before heading south. I slithered backwards until I felt my knees on the cold hardwood floor. Sure, this was the only place in the house WITHOUT that fucking shag carpet.

I licked at the soft trail of hair below his navel, eliminating his boxers. I heard Tommy moan softly above me. I seized his hips as I took his member in my mouth. A brief “oh god” escaped this time as I curled my tongue around the shaft. His hand on my shoulder blade urged me to go on. I took a little more in my mouth and sucked a little harder. I went with mock hunger like that for awhile: take in, suck harder, curl tongue around the shaft. My tongue ran along the veins, swirling around the slit in the tip. Lick at it like an ice cream cone, Tess once informed me. Sure. Ice cream that pulsates and twitches and is attached to a man writhing about underneath you. There is power in giving a blow job. I controlled my childhood friend with just my tongue.

This time Tommy’s hands were on my head, twisted up in my hair. My mouth altered speeds causing his hips to buck wildly as I persisted. My ears perked up when I heard him attempt to get a word past his lips. Still I went on until I knew he could no longer bare my mouth on his cock.

Instead of his usual growl or roar a word managed to escape Tommy’s mouth. “Shirt,” he panted.

I wiped my bottom lip with the back of my hand as I stood up. Pulling my boots off along the way, I picked up a piece of his tank top. Tommy took it desperately before he began to shudder violently in to what was left. He made no attempt to move. Instead, rolled me on to the steps and yanked my leggings off forcefully. Tommy got down on his knees this time.

As an alternative to stripping off my panties, Tommy leaned forward as he seized my thighs and spread them apart almost delicately. He began licking and sucking the soft cotton fabric between my legs. An electricity coursed through the center of my body. He went on with the barrier of material between his tongue and my clit; it worked exceedingly well. Tommy held my legs wide so I couldn’t impulsively clench them when I got off. I jolted momentarily off of the steps as I felt the oncoming climax. I squealed and moaned loudly. 

Ultimately, Tommy took two fingers to pull the cloth aside. He lapped over my folds once. Twice. Each time with a little flick at the end. His tongue darted quickly enough for my back to arch in climax and I burrowed fingers in the lush carpet. My cries echoed off the walls before I laid back down. I watched Tommy stand up as my heart found a normal pace again.

“Where are you going?” I quizzed him.

“Got some dishes to do,” he said matter-of-factly.

I gawked as Tommy sauntered down the hall, naked, to the kitchen. He had to be kidding right? My body convulsed one more time as water turned on in the direction behind me. I heaved a sigh and made a poor effort to get my bearings and stand. Once I could get up and I followed him to the other room.

Sure enough, Tommy was actually doing dishes. I observed a few minutes before deciding to meet him at the sink. I wordlessly rinsed the dishes he was placing in the right half of the sink to be set in the drying rack. We stood side by side like that, working without a sound, to scrub every dish in the house. Maybe Paddy really did need a woman’s touch around the house so he wouldn’t have a disgusting mess like this. 

I noticed Tommy having a hard time as he scoured furiously at the frying pan from earlier. I shook my head, exasperated. As if we did this every other night. “Here, lemme do it.” I slipped under his arms and sandwiched between Tommy and the sink. I fiddled for an S.O.S. pad which I held so he could see it. “You aren’t going to get anywhere with a sponge, Tommy.” What in the HELL am I on about?

This was so fucking weird. Yet Tommy took it none-the-less continuing his work around me. He shifted his arms around my chest, down in to the sink to finish the mundane chore. I positioned my hands on his forearms awkwardly as the pile of dirty tableware slowly started to dwindle. I rinsed and set everything in the drying rack monotonously. I hadn’t even realized Tommy topped washing until I felt his fervent mouth on the nape of my neck. Wet, soapy hands took hold of my breasts. It dawned on me, Tommy was hard again. 

“Ain’t nowhere to go again, huh ?” Tommy asked huskily. His hand between my legs to widen them.

“It’s not a trap if I put myself here willingly,” my voice wavered as I braced myself on either side of the sink. His erection throbbed and strained to touch my ass and the small of my back.

Tommy buried himself inside me completely. The very breath became strangled in my throat as I gasped. Unlike in the cage, my legs were held stationary. Tommy simply held the curve of my hips, plunging inside of me repeatedly. Over and over he thrust, taking to his beast-like growls. I closed my eyes, head back on Tommy’s shoulder. I stood up on my tip-toes as Tommy rocked the length of his member deep inside. I whimpered because he was unrelenting. Merciless in his furious pounding completely within my walls. Then, he unexpectedly pulled out. 

Tommy’s voice was hoarse, “You deserve better than this.”

We decided to nix the trek the back up to the attic, searching the bottom floor for a bedroom we long forgot. The door opened slowly and moonlight filtered in through the pale curtains. A waft of soft perfume floated in the air as Tommy and I climbed on the bed. Cinnamon and patchouli. What an oddly wonderful combination. 

A sad smile spread across Tommy’s lips when he laid completely on top of me. He pulled my legs up around his waist. I searched my surroundings, knowing Tommy was looking down at me. He turned my chin tenderly so that our eyes met. 

“Are you okay with being here, Tommy?” I asked cautiously. 

“Kid, I whose room we‘re in,” he whispered. “I want a little happiness for a bit.”

Tommy stroked my hair briefly before kissing me deeply. His hands held my face with affection as we kissed passionately. Then one hand left long enough to guide his member inside of me. His hands spread along my back between us and the bed. That was when he pushed inside of me slowly. 

I caressed Tommy’s face. Thumbs stroking his cheeks momentarily, but his mouth took to sucking on my neck. His pace continued unhurriedly until we found a rhythm together. His teeth nipped lightly where my neck turns becomes my shoulder. Our tempo quickened, and I heard an intake of breath next to my ear. Tommy was trembling noticeably.

Tommy’s voice interrupted our heavy breathing. He voice choked in my ear, “I miss her.”

The sex was different than other time the past two days. Tommy was letting himself go. He was finally and completely trusting someone in his mother’s abandoned room. The endless nights in our past spent beside Bridget for comfort and shelter. This was where MY Tommy finally came back to me. The boy I loved more than my very breath. 

My heart fluttered. It had nothing to do with Tommy’s thumb working my clit and bringing me to climax again. Tommy shivered unfettered and came for a second time tonight, holding me close to him. Wrapping me up in those strong arms. His body heat enveloped me as he laid on his side, massaging my pearl. My thighs locked around his hand, and I cried out his name in to the dark.

I snuggled with my back pressed to Tommy’s chest as we lay side by side on Bridget’s bed. He kissed my back lovingly before draping an arm over my hip. He hugged me protectively as I started to drift to a place between awake and asleep. The last thing I heard, Tommy started to snore lightly. I fell in to a heavy slumber soon after. Our land of make-believe domestic bliss was short-lived. Paddy had yet to come home.


End file.
